by Effie Calvin
“This was all your doing,” Reygmadra hissed. “You kept me from giving a blessing to Ioanna until it was too late. You tricked me into taking Vitaliya hostage. I can hardly imagine how you could have done more to hurt me.”
“I did not do any of it to hurt you. My priority has always been the mortals that trust us to protect them—”
“Spare me the sanctimonious lecture. I’ve no patience for your words today.”
Dayluue reached up and clasped Reygmadra’s face in the same way Ioanna had done to Vitaliya only minutes before. “I love you.”
Ioanna saw Reygmadra hesitate, her face softening for the briefest moment before it twisted back into an expression of scorn. She ripped free of Dayluue’s hands as though they had burned her.
“Is that meant to impress me?” Reygmadra spat. “Who don’t you love?”
“You’re being cruel.”
“What else should I be when my siblings craft each new world to be gentler than the last? If I sat back and allowed you to do as you pleased, I’d have faded out eons ago! You say you fight for mortals, but I fight for my very existence!”
Ioanna turned back toward Vitaliya, still on the ground with her arms wrapped around herself. Ioanna went to her, shuffling forward on her knees, trying to move quietly as to not catch the attention of the quarreling goddesses only a few meters away. When she reached Vitaliya, she pulled her close as gently as she could, trying not to further aggravate any of her wounds. Vitaliya curled into Ioanna’s chest, her breath soft and gasping.
“You can change.” Dayluue reached her hands out for Reygmadra again as if longing for an embrace. “There are other domains you can claim. Sustainable ones. There’s no shame in it. Honor. Glory. Valor. Why won’t you at least consider—”
“Who do you think my replacement will be when I can no longer hold my place in the Ten?” demanded Reygmadra. “Cyne, who smiles so gently? He seems the most likely one. Or maybe Nara—at least she’ll not do me the dishonor of feigning friendship as she stabs me in the back.”
“Reygmadra,” pleaded Dayluue.
“Adalia? She’s been growing in power these past few centuries, creeping up on Adranus’s domain. There’s no telling what she’s capable of now.”
“You will not be replaced. I’ll never allow it.”
Reygmadra laughed bitterly. “As though you could stop it.”
Dayluue looked at Ioanna, and Ioanna tightened her arms around Vitaliya instinctively. But Dayluue meant them no harm—she had interfered in order to save them. After a moment, she turned back to Reygmadra again.
“Come to Vanya with me,” she coaxed. “We can talk there. I’ve missed you so much—”
“That was your own doing!”
“And I’m sorry!” It was a lie. But a soft lie, designed to comfort, not hurt.
“You’re not,” sneered Reygmadra. “But you will be once the Outsiders come, and I’m too weakened to protect Inthya. I only hope there’s enough of me left to see it.”
Dayluue began to object, but before she could say more than a few words, Reygmadra disappeared from the dungeon as if she’d never been there at all.
Dayluue turned back to Vitaliya and Ioanna, and there was such sorrow in her face that Ioanna felt compelled to say something reassuring. But what could she possibly say to reassure one of the Ten?
“You can let go now,” Dayluue murmured to Ioanna. “Your part is finished.”
She was all alone in her grandmother’s study at Oredia, which would normally be a rather exciting prospect. But something was not quite right. Whenever Ioanna removed a book from the shelf or unrolled one of the scrolls, the writing was all in a language she had never seen before. It was beautiful to look at but utterly incomprehensible. After twenty years of curiosity, this was a bit of a disappointment.
“What are you doing?” asked a voice from behind her. Ioanna gave a little jump and turned, expecting to see her grandmother there ready to scold her. But a man stood before her.
Ioanna held a book out to him. “I can’t read this,” she complained. Her voice was high and thin, the way it had been in childhood, and when she glanced down, she realized her hands were small as well.
“You will learn,” said the man. “Someday. But you have a great deal to do before then, don’t you?”
Ioanna put the book back on the shelf in the exact spot she’d taken it from. Nobody would ever know she’d touched it.
“Do you wish to remain a Truthsayer?” asked the man. “I understand it has been more burden than blessing to you. Now that your most difficult task is complete, I offer you the chance to be free of it.”
“I’d like to keep it. Unless…” Ioanna frowned. “Do you need it back?”
The man laughed, softly. “No. I do not need it back. I am asking for your sake, not mine.”
“Then I’d like to keep it.”
The man nodded, and she thought he looked proud of her. “You can go, then,” he said. “We can talk again later once you’ve finished what needs to be done.”
“I wish you’d spoken to me earlier.” Ioanna regretted the words the moment she said them—what horrible hubris! But the man did not look angry. He looked tired and sad but not angry, and Ioanna found the courage to go on. “Why didn’t you? I was so alone, I—”
“You will learn,” said Iolar again. “Someday.”
Ioanna opened her eyes and found herself staring up at a perfectly clear blue sky through a rather large hole in the ceiling. All around her, people were shouting and arguing and even sobbing, but Ioanna felt strangely disconnected from everything until a familiar face appeared in her line of vision.
“I have good news and bad news,” said Aelia. “What do you want to hear first?”
Ioanna blinked up at her.
“The good news is you’re the Empress of Xytae.” Aelia paused, but when this got no reaction, she went on talking. “The bad news is you took down nearly the entire south face of the palace.”
Ioanna’s eyes flicked away from Aelia’s face and back to the sky above. Why had destroying the palace seemed so important? She couldn’t really remember. Something about corruption, something about purity…but the palace was just a building. It was neither pure nor impure. It was just stones.
All she could say was that it had made sense at the time.
“Netheia—” Ioanna began. “Where—”
“She’s been arrested, but they didn’t put her in the dungeons. She’s confined to her rooms. You can probably get that changed if you insist, but…” Aelia shrugged.
“No. It’s fine, I’m sure.” If her grandmother wasn’t objecting, then Ioanna would not either. Ioanna rubbed at her eyes. She was so dizzy, and so hungry. She struggled to sit up, and Aelia helped her.
“What’s an Outsider?” murmured Ioanna.
Aelia’s mouth fell open. “Wh—where did you hear that word?”
“Reygmadra said it. To Dayluue. She said, she said you’d all regret weakening her once the Outsiders came—”
“Here, look at this,” said Aelia, holding up her hand. Purple magic glowed at her fingertips, but before Ioanna could ask what she was doing, she snapped her fingers and Ioanna’s mind went blank for the briefest moment. When her thoughts returned, she could not remember what she’d been about to say.
“Sorry, what was that?” asked Aelia.
“I…” Ioanna searched her memory, but for the life of her, she could not recall the question she’d been about to ask. Something about Reygmadra, Dayluue, and…? “I’m sorry. I lost track of—”
“Don’t worry, you’ve been through a lot today,” said Aelia. “Let me know if you remember later. Did you want to see Vitaliya? She’s with the healers.”
“Yes!” Ioanna pushed herself upward, and pain shot through her shoulders all the way down to her fingertips. The wound her sister had given her during their fight was still there, and now she could feel it. Someone had wrapped it with a bandage, but pain still radiated from the s
ource. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fine, she—” But Ioanna did not hear the rest of the words as she took off running.
She found a group of white-robed healers in the next room, tending to people who Ioanna supposed had been caught by falling stones. Guilt clenched at her stomach as she realized that had been her own doing. What had come over her that she’d been so thoughtless, so careless, so pointlessly violent?
The realization that she’d been no better than her sister was mortifying. This whole time she’d been so convinced she was better than Netheia, but in the end was she really?
She would never do this again. She would never allow her blessing to overtake her as it had today, no matter what was at stake. She’d never have thought Iolar’s magic was capable of being a corrupting influence, but perhaps the god behind the magic was less important than she’d always assumed. She’d have to discuss it with the paladins later.
Vitaliya was among the injured sitting down on a low-cushioned bench dragged in from one of the other rooms. A few healers were gathered around her, but they all backed away when they saw Ioanna coming.
The bruises on Vitaliya’s face had faded significantly since the last time they’d seen each other, but it still pained her to look at them. Ioanna knelt so she could embrace her properly.
“You’re you again,” murmured Vitaliya. “I was so worried you’d be gold forever.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Actually, it was very impressive.” Vitaliya smiled. “I’ll have to commission someone to do a painting of it.”
Ioanna laughed. “I’m so glad you’re safe. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Let’s not ever find out.” Vitaliya curled closer. “But…”
“What?”
“I think I’d like to go to my father’s wedding.”
Of all the infinite things Vitaliya might have said in that moment, Ioanna thought this was the one she’d expected least. “You do?”
“Don’t laugh,” muttered Vitaliya. “Just, I came so near to dying. I thought I might never see my family again. And after that—after everything—Father remarrying hardly seems important at all. It’s like being angry about a stone in your shoe when your arm’s been cut off. I’m sorry. I just said I wanted to stay with you, and now I’m wanting to leave—”
“No,” said Ioanna firmly. “Don’t apologize. I’m happy you’ve forgiven him. Good fathers aren’t always easy to come by.”
“Maybe he loves her the way I love you,” Vitaliya murmured. “And if that’s the case, I’d be a hypocrite if I said he shouldn’t be with her, wouldn’t I? She’ll never be my mother, but…”
“I don’t think anyone can reasonably expect her to be your mother,” Ioanna said. “Especially not at your age.”
“I’ll come back.” Vitaliya’s eyes were bright with determination. “The moment the wedding’s over—I’ll come back. Don’t you dare hold a formal coronation without me; I’ve got to make sure you invite everyone who needs inviting and leave out everyone I’m angry at!”
“I don’t think a formal coronation will happen for quite some time,” said Ioanna. “Given everything that needs to be done.”
“I wish you could come with me,” Vitaliya sighed. “You could meet my family. Or are you going to continue the Xytan tradition of never showing up for other people’s weddings?”
Ioanna laughed. “No! I’d come in an instant if—” She glanced over at the injured palace residents, then at the cracked and damaged wall. “—if I didn’t have so much to do.”
“You, and the stonemasons!”
“I don’t know what came over me! I know it was foolish and wasteful.”
“It was symbolic,” asserted Vitaliya. “And given what I’ve seen of Xytae, I’ll bet everyone is more impressed than angry.”
Vitaliya was probably right about that. Ioanna supposed she ought to be grateful, but she just felt sad. It would take decades, maybe even longer, before Reygmadra’s influence on their culture would fade away.
“I feel bad for her,” she murmured.
“Who? Netheia?”
“No. Well. Yes, I feel bad for Netheia. But I was actually thinking of Reygmadra.”
Vitaliya made a distasteful face. “Her? Why do you feel bad for her?”
“Because of what she said to Dayluue. She was so hurt—”
“Wait,” interrupted Vitaliya. “In the dungeons. Could you understand what they were saying?”
“Yes.” Ioanna blinked at her in confusion. “You couldn’t?”
“No! It was all in some language I’ve never heard before!”
“Oh.” A side effect of immersing so deeply in her blessing? Of her connection to Iolar? She wasn’t sure. “I could tell they loved each other. Maybe they still do. But…”
“Dayluue could have anyone in Asterium—or on Inthya—and she loves Reygmadra?”
They’re not so different, thought Ioanna. But she was too tired to explain her thoughts, so instead she just kissed Vitaliya’s forehead. “I suppose there’s nothing we can do. They’ll have to work it out for themselves.”
“That’s too bad. I love getting involved in other people’s problems.” Vitaliya sighed, and Ioanna laughed.
“Crown Princess?” At the sound of her title, Ioanna frowned. She was not in the mood to be anyone’s crown princess right now. But she tore her eyes away from Vitaliya to look at the paladin who was now addressing her. It was Vel, and her mood lifted at the realization. He’d been with them for so long; he did not deserve her anger. “I apologize for interrupting. But Knight-Commander Livius wishes to speak with you regarding the impending arrival of the rest of your forces, and your grandmother says she wants—”
She didn’t just have to be their crown princess, Ioanna realized. She had to be their empress.
“Yes, of course,” said Ioanna. “Tell them I will be with them shortly.”
“How soon is shortly?” asked Vitaliya as the paladin walked away.
“That’s a matter of opinion, I think,” said Ioanna, resting her head against Vitaliya’s shoulder. “An hour, maybe? Or two?”
Vitaliya giggled and curled closer to her, so close that Ioanna could feel her heartbeat. “A week?” she whispered.
“That might be pushing the boundaries of honesty,” Ioanna murmured back, pressing a soft kiss to Vitaliya’s lips. “But perhaps I can make an exception.”
Her amassed army arrived in the city two days later. There was no fanfare as they made their way through the streets, only quiet confusion. The battle they had spent so many weeks anticipating would never come.
Ioanna was glad for that. The last thing their nation needed was more bloodshed. She was still a bit unnerved by how Iolar’s blessing had overtaken her mind and body, but she supposed it had saved lives.
Still, she would never allow it to happen again.
In the meantime, there was so much to do. She could not officially be crowned empress until the mourning period was over, but that did not mean she would sit idly by and wait for the time to pass. Grandmother Irianthe was a great help to her, standing at her shoulder while all the courtiers fell over themselves to be first to swear fealty to Ioanna. Curiously, the oaths were not lies. This did not mean they wouldn’t eventually change their minds, but she could rest easy for the time being.
Getting the army and the Temple of Reygmadra under control would be a little more difficult. She’d already issued an edict that all the conscripted were to return home, and the Imperial Fields to be vacated. That still left the career soldiers, but they could be stationed around the border, kept busy and separate enough that they would not decide to consolidate their power and march on the capital.
Ioanna was not looking forward to the return of her father’s generals, those men and women who had all spoken so eagerly of Xytae’s glorious golden destiny. Her grandmother had already selected new posts for each of them, so they wouldn’t be in her wa
y, but Ioanna knew she could expect them to turn up on her doorstep once they realized the war with Masim was truly ended. They would be difficult to reason with even with her grandmother at her side. And if she wasn’t careful, they’d free Netheia and try to replace Ioanna with her once again.
Ioanna’s heart sank as she thought of Netheia, who was still confined to her rooms. She had not visited her sister yet, though not out of spite or anger. She’d simply been far too busy to find the time. She still had no idea what Netheia’s ultimate fate would be. Perhaps it was foolish, but Ioanna still harbored hope that they could be allies one day.
“I saw your mother today.”
Ioanna looked up from her writing. Vitaliya sat on the bed in her nightdress, smiling her usual happy smile.
“What?” asked Ioanna, still lost in her own thoughts.
“Your mother. I saw her today.” Vitaliya would be leaving soon, and so Ioanna was trying to enjoy the time they had together.
“I’ve seen her about,” commented Ioanna. “But she has not spoken to me.”
“Will you summon her?”
Ioanna shrugged. Her mother would probably be a useful ally, for she’d spent so many years as Xytae’s administrator. But Ioanna was not certain she wanted her mother’s aid. She still did not know how much her mother had known about Netheia’s plans or about the way their people had starved.
She supposed she could ask, but then she would have to live with the answer.
“I was just curious,” said Vitaliya. “I don’t mean to pressure you into talking to her. She’s been telling everyone who will listen how capable and clever you are. But perhaps she’s just realized which way the wind is blowing. Forget I said anything. What are you working on there?”
“A letter to the Masimi.” Though really, she still had hardly any idea what she would say. What could she say? There was no apologizing for what had been done. And Xytae could hardly afford to pay reparations. Perhaps the army’s withdrawal from their lands would be enough, for now. “I hope they’ll allow me to send an ambassador, but that may be too much to ask for right away.”